The Mysterious Incident of 221B Baker Street
by Waterlou25
Summary: In which Sherlock discovers something interesting with John that just might keep him away from boredom... Eventual smut;  Sherlock enjoys being a tease which is why I also marked the story as suspense haha
1. Chapter 1

John Watson was lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling with his eyes wide open. He'd had too many sleepless nights since he'd gotten back from the war and, when he actually managed to drift into some form of decent slumber, vivid dreams of past terrors would awaken him in a trembling sweat. Tonight was no exception. It was still too early for breakfast but the sun was just starting to rise on the horizon so John figured that he should try writing in his blog as his therapist had recommended. He turned on his coffee machine before settling himself in front of his laptop. He sat staring at his screen for what seemed like an hour until his coffee was ready. He poured himself a cup and rustled through his cupboards to see what he would need to buy for groceries that morning. He was running low on his favourite tea so he'd have to go downtown to get some more; he scribbled himself a reminder. John then sat back down in front of his laptop fully knowing that he would not be writing anything in his blog today. Instead, he started up a search engine. He didn't have much money from his army pension and was beginning to consider having a roommate for the first time. His old friend from college whom he had met yesterday in the park had mentioned that one of his colleagues was looking for a flatmate in London and the offer had seemed too good to be true. His friend had suggested he come meet his colleague, M. Holmes, before deciding on anything seeing as he considered him to be a very difficult man to be around. As a result, John was to come to the school's laboratory at 2 o'clock that evening to meet with Holmes and see if they would be a good fit for each other. John decided that he should probably look up this Holmes man before meeting him; surely someone who works at a reputable laboratory could easily be found on the internet somewhere.

Sherlock Holmes was determinately gazing into his microscope when he heard two men buoyantly come into the room speaking of "old times". Sherlock looked up at the clock and saw that it was 2 o'clock. This Watson man was very punctual. Sherlock furtively glanced towards the small man before gazing back into his microscope. The man was well groomed. His hair was neatly trimmed and his posture was unnaturally perfect. He was grasping a cane to hold himself up: his right leg was injured. No, not injured; it was a psychosomatic pain: he didn't appear to be sore while standing. Watson was a military man who'd been injured in the war certainly but his injury wasn't on his right leg. Judging by the way one of his shoulders appeared bigger than the other as though one had had to substitute for the weakness of the other for some time, he'd probably been injured near the shoulder. Probably a bullet seeing as the injury must have been traumatic enough to cause the man to develop a psychosomatic injury in the leg. Why would the man need a flatmate though? Did he not have family? He'd have to discover for himself. "Could I borrow your cell phone? I seem to have lost track of mine" asked Sherlock. He was staring directly into Watson's eyes who took a quick inhale of breath when their eyes met. This was curious to Sherlock but the man interrupted his thoughts when he shuffled on his feet to steady himself as he reached into his back pocket to retrieve his cell phone and hand it over to Sherlock. Watson definitely had no one important to him in his life since his phone was kept in such a hard place for him to reach which meant that he did not regularly need to use it and so he never expected calls or texts from friends or family. A first glance at John Watson's cell phone told him everything he needed to know so he just sent himself a text to appear as though he had actually needed the cell phone. He looked directly into Watson's eyes again as he handed him his cell phone to see if he'd get the same reaction as before. He did: Watson drew a sharp intake of breathe. As their hands touched, Sherlock got a sudden idea and grabbed Watson's wrist so that he could read his pulse subtly. Watson quickly withdrew his hand and whipped the sweat that had just recently formed on his palm onto his pants. It was just as Sherlock had suspected; the man's pulse was racing but Sherlock couldn't seem to identify the cause just yet. Perhaps John Watson was frightened of him. It wouldn't come as a surprise to Sherlock if it were the case considering how bad his reputation was when it came to social matters. Sherlock smirked at himself before returning to his microscope. "I hope you don't mind the violin?" asked Sherlock.

"Sorry?" questioned Watson. He seemed confused about the query. Sherlock found it so terribly irritating when people didn't keep up with his logic but Watson was so intrigued and innocent looking that it didn't bother Sherlock in the slightest.

"Yes, well, I tend to play the violin for long periods of time and my landlord considers me to be rather inept at it. It would be somewhat inconvenient for us to be flatmates if you couldn't tolerate the God awful racket I like to make in my robes" said Sherlock without taking a breath and without looking up from his microscope. John couldn't help but choke on his own spit as he envisioned a very different kind of racket one could make in their robes at night but then he remembered that Sherlock was speaking of his violin so he quickly answered that it wouldn't be a problem. Sherlock smiled at himself as his suspicions about John Watson's quickened pulse were confirmed. John Watson, the army man, found him very attractive. Sherlock had no interest but he thought that John might turn out to be an amusing flatmate to have around. Sherlock stood up from his desk and walked over to John where he leaned onto one of the tables with his arms crossed looking at John with a smirk on his face. "Would you like to see the flat now then?" asked Sherlock.

"We've only just met and we know nothing about each other! Shouldn't we talk over a cup of tea to see if we get along first?" asked John. Watson furtively looked at Sherlock to see his reaction. He was still staring at him with a smirk on his face. Watson shivered a little. The man was indeed very good looking. The way he looked at him was unnerving.

"I'd say that I know you quite well by now and you are friends with one of my colleagues who recommended we be flatmates so you know that I am at least trustworthy since no friend would recommend a dreadful flatmate to another friend. I know you'll be tidy because you were in the army and are used to order. You have a psychosomatic limp in your leg which will be gone once you get some action back into your system so I know you'll be willing to live on the second floor. Also, by the state of your clothes, I can tell that the army hasn't left you with much and you'll need a cheap accommodation until you can find more work. I've managed to get a discount rate on the rent as my landlady owes me a favour. You don't have any relatives or friends that you could or want to receive help from which I deduced from your cell phone and you enjoy making tea which I don't make for myself but wouldn't mind having more often. I think we'll do just fine as flatmates." When Sherlock finished speaking John just stood with his mouth slightly ajar before simply uttering a "wow" and an "alright, then." Twenty minutes later, they were stepping out of a cab together in front of 221B Baker Street and Sherlock was knocking on the door.

Mrs. Hudson let them in with a knowing smile which just confused John and amused Sherlock. When John stepped into the flat, he instantly felt at home. The fireplace was lit with a nice roaring fire, the walls were painted with warm and welcoming colors and the curtains offered a stylish sense of privacy that John quite enjoyed after all his time in the army sharing a room with ten other men. Sherlock was watching John very intently to see if he liked the flat. He liked John very much and he felt that they might get along well so he hoped that John would accept the place as his own. John looked over at Sherlock and smiled. "I think this could be really nice" he said. Sherlock was pleased. Mrs. Hudson was still standing in the doorway looking at the pair of them. "If you need your own room, there's one upstairs" she said to John.

"Of course I'll need my own room" he answered, perplexed.

"Oh, well, one only presumes" she mumbled. John looked over at Sherlock who was smirking while looking out the window. He clearly found all this amusing. John's heart fluttered uneasily as he wondered if Sherlock had hoped that they would be sharing a room as well.

"I'll leave you to it then" said Mrs. Hudson as she closed the door behind her. John heard her going down the stairs while humming a tune he didn't recognize.

"I've had your things brought here already. They're in your room" said Sherlock. John quickly turned to him in bewilderment and uttered a few unintelligible words of surprise. "Unless you'd rather have them moved to my room?" teased Sherlock.

John's cheeks flushed a little at that proposition and he forgot about why he had been taken aback. He just stammered an "of course not" before running up to his new bedroom. He had left his cane behind in his hurry. Sherlock noticed and congratulated himself on his accurate deductions about his leg pain. He felt an odd urge to go up to John's room, which he brushed off, and instead decided to check on the eyeballs in the microwave.

After a couple of hours, John finally came back to the living room after having finished unpacking his things. He was still amazed at how quick everything had gone. It had only been a few hours ago that he still didn't know where he was going to live and now he was all settled in to flat with someone he barely knew; a very attractive someone. When John entered the living room, Sherlock was lying on his back reading a book on the sofa. He had taken off his coat and was wearing a nice long-sleeved silk purple shirt and it looked very good on him. John coughed away his thoughts and offered to make some tea. Sherlock simply grunted his approval and kept reading his book.

John started by turning on the stove and filling the kettle with water which he placed over the heat. Then he rummaged through the cupboards trying to find some tea bags. He found an assortment of things that should never be placed in a kitchen but no tea. "Where is your tea?" he asked. Sherlock remained silent. John just continued to open some cupboards until he found the tea on the top shelf of one of the cupboards. He reached up on the tip of his toes with his hand outstretched but he wasn't tall enough. He turned to call out to Sherlock for some help but, as he turned, he came face to face with Sherlock who was already reaching above him to get the tea. John stood paralyzed as their faces were now only inches apart. John's heart was beating furiously in his rib cage and his legs had Goosebumps all over them. He felt a pleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to what John was feeling until he lowered his gaze from the tea to look into John's eyes which only aggravated John's situation. Sherlock smirked when he realized how John's breath had quickened and deposited the tea behind John on the counter while brushing his arm against John's. A low sound escaped John's mouth and Sherlock cocked his head to the side in plain curiosity. "Really?" he asked with a deep chuckle. Sherlock brushed his hand down John's chest slowly, admiring the effect he had on John. Sherlock took a step closer to John as the sound of the kettle was getting louder. He could feel something hard pressing up against his leg but it didn't bother him. John was clearly aroused. Sherlock bent slowly down towards John so that his mouth was right next to John's ear and he dropped his voice to a seductive purr. "I think the water is sufficiently hot" he said before turning on his heels and walking casually back to the living room. John had to steady himself on the counter to catch his breath and wait for his pulse to return to normal. The man knew what he was doing to him; he enjoyed doing it to him but he didn't have the slightest bit of interest in him. It was all a game to him. John felt embarrassed for showing himself in such a vulnerable position. Sherlock was in control and he enjoyed it. Yet, John believed that he wouldn't mind getting used to that at all and Sherlock knew he'd found another way to chase away his constant boredom. All was well at 221B Baker Street.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

John had been in the kitchen, staring off in the distance, for the past half hour and Sherlock was beginning to wonder if he had been too forward with him earlier. It had been a rather bold move on his part to even consider touching John at all but he was somehow very comfortable touching John since he was positive that it would be a welcome gesture. Sherlock did not enjoy that type of intimacy in the same manner that John had but he could still find a guilty pleasure in seeing John's reaction to his voice, his touch and his mannerisms. It was a deeper form of flattery that he was not much accustomed to. Sherlock had never found any romantic interest in anyone nor had he found any sexual desires towards anyone although he did like fantasizing about being with an equal mind in more intimate circumstances. He still, on occasion, hoped to find an intellectual match that could challenge him in any way. Perhaps, then, he would feel the way John can feel for him. Sex was still a mystery to him; one which he was not keen on unravelling but perhaps, if he did, he would be better equipped to solve certain mysteries that were often presented to him by clients. It would be just another experiment of sorts. One day perhaps he would find that person that would be able to stimulate him in ways no other had before. Just then a cough interrupted Sherlock in his fantasy and he turned to look in its direction. It was John. He had finally emerged from the kitchen and was carrying two cups of tea which he deposited on the little oak table at Sherlock's feet. "You were right; the water was sufficiently hot," he said as his cheeks flushed ever so slightly. So, he was trying to pretend like nothing had happened. This pleased Sherlock immensely because it meant that he could continue toying with John without any awkward moments where they would have to acknowledge that something had indeed happened. "I hope my odd assortment of body parts hasn't made you reconsider your lodgings then?" asked Sherlock.

John registered the word "body" and looked away to try hiding his embarrassment as he answered. "No, I figure it is to be expected in the house of someone who works in a lab with dead bodies all the time. Will it be a regular thing, then?" asked John.

Sherlock smiled while bending over to pick up his cup of tea. "Possibly," he answered slyly. "Will your inability to reach things become a regular thing then? I could always bring up the stepladder that Mrs. Hudson keeps for the attic," mused Sherlock. John just looked very uncomfortable as a response so Sherlock proceeded to pick up the book he had been reading to let John be awkward on his own for a while. He read only half a page before glancing above his book to peer at John very swiftly. He was actually eyeing Sherlock while sipping his tea. He had a bemused expression on his face almost as though he was..."checking me out," thought Sherlock. At this he chuckled and quickly returned his gaze to his book. "Is that book amusing to you?" asked John astonishingly.

"Oh yes, it's quite the read; very humorous," replied Sherlock.

"You do realize, I hope, that you are reading _Raped & Abused: The Story Through Forensic Evidence_?" asked John rather suspiciously. Any man that could find such a book humorous could not be a very good one.

"Yes, I do. It's quite humorous to me of course as I developed most of the techniques they so wrongfully describe, yet they seemed to have used them for all the wrong reasons. Sometimes I wonder if people hear me in a different language when I speak," replied Sherlock. At this, Sherlock jumped up from his chair and took three long strides around the small table that held the teacups and over to John where he grabbed his hands to pull him up from his seat. He then grabbed John's shoulders and turned him over to his library. "Help yourself, John; any book of mine is now a book of yours! Feel free to grab one now to occupy yourself while I finish spotting all the mistakes in the one I'm reading," exclaimed Sherlock. As Sherlock turned to walk away, he made one of his hands linger on John's back and slowly slid it down the length of his spine which made the hairs on John's arms raise. Then, Sherlock crashed back into his armchair with his legs resting over one of the arm rests while he began to skim through his book once more. John longingly looked over at Sherlock before turning to face the stack of books messily pilled in front of him. They all seemed to be books about death in some way which was all too depressing so he sat back down with his hands empty and instead busied himself with his tea while he gazed at Sherlock who was now feverishly skimming through the pages of his book wile shaking his head in disapproval.

After a few minutes, Sherlock became aware that John was gaping at him and decided it was time to do something a little more interesting. He snapped his book shut to get John out of his little reverie and stood up from his armchair very slowly. He walked over to the mantelpiece over the fireplace where he grabbed a human skull. He began tossing it from hand to hand as he thought to himself. John observed his every move. He loved how agile he was and he especially loved how the light from the fire seemed to just radiate off of him. John was observing the light around Sherlock so intently that he barely noticed that Sherlock had stepped towards him until he spoke. "I'm actually a little hungry now. Are you much for cooking or would you prefer going out?" asked Sherlock.

John quickly thought about the incident in the kitchen with the tea and exclaimed that he would be delighted to cook something for them both. It was just as Sherlock had suspected and he proceeded towards the kitchen to show John where he had placed everything. "Are you coming then?" he asked nonchalantly. John jumped up from his seat in such hurry that he hit his tibia on the oak table and spilt whatever was left of the tea all over the table. John yelped in pain and dropped back down in his armchair, clutching his leg with both hands and rocking back in forth hissing curses. Sherlock appeared instantly with a cloth to wipe up the spilt tea and then he ruffled John's hair with his hand and mockingly told him to "suck it up." John, disgruntled, got back up from his chair, this time carefully avoiding the table in front of him. He was still clutching his leg with one hand when he limped into the kitchen where Sherlock was waiting for him. He was casually leaning against one of the counters with both arms crossed, smirking. The cupboard next to him was wide open. "I feel like pasta tonight. You'll need a large pot for that," mentioned Sherlock. John looked again at the cabinet that Sherlock had deliberately opened for him and John could see that all the pots were on the topmost shelf which he was, of course, unable to reach. He then suspiciously glanced at Sherlock wondering what his intentions were which only made Sherlock emit a deeply seductive chuckle that spread a warm reaction like wildfire through John's entire body. His heart was thumping loudly and the pain in his leg was suddenly lessened. "Is the pain gone now?" asked Sherlock; who had noticed that John was standing properly again. John mumbled unintelligibly in response and moved closer to the cabinet to see if he would be able to reach any of the pots. The shelf was still much too high for his short stature. However, Sherlock was in full capacity of reaching the pots but he didn't seem to want to budge. "I can still get the step ladder if you want," teased Sherlock while remaining perfectly still. John eyed him suspiciously before bringing one of his legs up on the counter and heaving himself up enough to reach a set of pots which he handed over to Sherlock who merely raised an eyebrow at him in response. John sighed discouragingly and tried to place the pots by his side instead before lowering himself back onto the floor. As he brought his second leg back down towards the ground, he felt it brush up against something. He turned to see what he had touched only to find Sherlock towering over him with a slight smile thinning his lips. The way his head was placed cast a shadow under his brow and cheekbones which really accentuated his features; John noticed. He was startled by Sherlock's sudden proximity and was unable to move as Sherlock took a step closer towards John, reaching his hand forward to place it on the counter behind John. Their faces were incredibly close now. John could feel Sherlock's hot breath on his cheek but he could not bring himself to look into those eyes for fear of what he might feel if he did. Sherlock was enjoying the discomfort he was causing John and couldn't help but grin mischievously at his own boldness. He then slowly lifted his free hand towards John's shoulder, pausing merely inches away from him, and he felt a yearning to see lust in John's eyes once again. He could hear the shorter man's breathes become deeper and quicker. Sherlock swallowed heavily while keeping his eyes fixed on John's face. He then softly put his hand on John's chest and John instantly looked up into Sherlock's eyes with his lips parted in a silent moan. Sherlock experienced of jolt of sheer pleasure at the look on John's face; there was so much desire in his eyes and Sherlock wanted to see more. He carefully lowered his hand and slowly slid it along John's torso. John briefly closed his eyes while exhaling a heated breathe; his entire body shook ever so slightly and a tingling sensation ran up his thighs, igniting a spark of delirious pleasure in his groin. Sherlock moved closer and removed his hand from the counter to softly place it on John's inner thigh which instantly triggered John's erection. Sherlock could feel it pressing on his lower abdomen and he trembled in pure delight at what he could do to John. He wanted to feel more. He wanted to see just how much pleasure he could give him. He bent his head down lower towards John's neck and collarbone where he paused, hovering centimetres away from his skin. He made sure that John could feel his steamy breathe on the crook of his neck. Sherlock's mouth watered as he saw the Goosebumps forming on John's soft skin. "Do you want me to continue?" he asked in a deeply seductive whisper, blowing each word onto John so that he could feel his words as they entered his mind into a maddening frenzy of delicious thoughts. John wanted Sherlock to touch him. He could barely form words to his thoughts and instead only uttered a definitive moan as he tilted his head to the side to allow Sherlock full access to his neck. Sherlock's heart jolted in his ribcage at John's gratifying response. He wanted more. He wanted to taste the sweetness of John's cologne so badly it was infuriating. John impatiently grabbed Sherlock's arms and squeezed them in pure need for them to move and touch him where he so desperately needed to be touched. Sherlock eagerly responded by tantalizingly moving his hands down John's back and over his hips towards his groin and then back up his torso to his chest. He then softly placed his left hand on John's cheek and the other on John's shoulder before finally lowering his mouth to John's ready neck. He kissed the base of it with his lips slightly parted as he moaned for the first time showing his own enjoyment at the feelings he was discovering with his plump lips. He next brought his tongue to John's neckline and licked his way up to John's jaw bone where he paused to lay a sultry kiss on the neatly shaven skin. He then slowly kissed his way to John's mouth where he took his lower lip into his own and gently passed his tongue over every inch he could explore. John's pleasure was excruciatingly delightful and building. He had never yet been touched so expertly and he couldn't help but lightly thrust his hips towards Sherlock, rocking them ever so slightly and building up his desire. Sherlock lowered his left hand from John's cheek down to his rocking hips so that he could guide every one of John's thrusts against his own growing erection. John needed Sherlock to kiss him deeply but he needed him to make the first move. "Please," begged John in a feeble voice which ignited a deep carnal response throughout Sherlock's entire body and he placed his lips over John's, parting his lips with his eager tongue. Sherlock withdrew his tongue only to take John's lower lip once again into his own, letting it go slowly and coming back for more as John emitted more soft moans of approval at Sherlock's tantalizing performance. John followed Sherlock's rhythm and slowly brought his hands to Sherlock's lower back to pull him closer to him with every little thrust of his hips. Sherlock suddenly needed even more; more than he ever thought he would. John felt Sherlock's sudden urgency and carefully began unbuttoning his shirt to which Sherlock let escape a stuttered moan of approval. Sherlock lowered one of his hands down to John's inner thigh once more and began rubbing it up and down; getting closer to John's grown ever time. John's cock was now aching with need and he thrust himself into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock responded by moving his hand torturously and slowly on John's cock, rubbing his erection through his pants. He returned to John's neck with his mouth where he passionately kissed him. He enjoyed teasing John and building both their pleasure to make the release so much more enjoyable. John began to moan even more frequently as Sherlock teased his cock and savoured his neck. As Sherlock seductively licked behind John's earlobe, John gasped while tilting his head to the sky and thrust harder onto Sherlock's pulsating cock. "Please, please," begged John as he unbuttoned the last of Sherlock's shirt and slid his hands onto his bare muscular torso. Sherlock slowly pulled away with a lustful moan and seductively walked away from John with a smirk on his gorgeous face without ever breaking eye contact. John stood with his cocking aching for more; not wanting to believe that it might be over once more. "Come to my bed; I need all of you," purred Sherlock as he opened the door to his bedroom and stretched out his hand to John. As John willingly swayed over to him, Sherlock looked the short man up and down as he licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come.

End of chapter 2 (I know I'm cruel but I just love Sherlock as a tease! Please review and I'll get on to writing the rest.)


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was standing tantalizingly in the doorway to his bedroom. His chest was exposed through his unbuttoned shirt and his left arm was spread across his open door, inviting John to come in.

As he moved closer toSherlock, John removed his shirt and started to remove his belt. Sherlock closed the gap between them and firmly pulled John's lips to his. "I want you to show me how much you want me." He groaned passionately. Sherlock was getting off on John's desire for him. He wanted him to worship him. He moved John over to his bed until the back of his legs were touching the mattress. "Take my clothes off." He instructed. John obeyed. He pulled both of his sleeves off at the same time as he sucked and licked his chest, slowly moving towards his neck. He lightly bit just below his ear as he slowly undid Sherlock's pants. He moaned as he felt Sherlock's wet cock for the first time. John began to softly stroke it with his left hand as he removed his own pants with his right.

Sherlock was feeling a shiver rise through him, projecting from his pulsating cock. The feeling intensified as he saw John lower himself onto his knees. Sherlock revelled in seeing the man below him, waiting to do whatever Sherlock wanted of him. "Gab me hard and rub my cock over your tongue." John did as was instructed. He loved Sherlock's confidence. He like taking orders too. He was smacking Sherlock's rock hard cock against his spread-out tongue. He loved his taste.

Sherlock began to moan roughly. He then pushed John off of him and lay down on the bed with both his hands behind his head. "Worship my cock." He commanded. John felt a jolt spread down to his own cock as he did as he was told. He firmly grasped the base of Sherlock's member with his left hand and stroked his own with his right. He took Sherlock's full length in his mouth until he gagged. He swirled his tongue around Sherlock's tip, licking all his pre-cum off and swallowing. He then stroked Sherlock with his hand as he sucked Sherlock's balls. Sherlock's moans were growing louder.

"Bend over for me." Sherlock demanded. John continued stroking Sherlock softly as he placed himself properly on the bed. "I want you to beg for it." Said Sherlock. John remained quiet except for a few shuddering moans. Sherlock bent over John and stroked his cock from behind. John could feel Sherlock's hard member pressed against him from behind and felt like he might burst at any second. "Please." He begged. "What?" Said Sherlock. "Please, I want it." Pleaded John. A boastful smirk spread across Sherlock's face before he forced his fingers into John's mouth, making them wet. He then covered his cock with John's saliva before easing into John. As soon as he was in, he started to thrust in and out of John. John collapsed forward as he groaned out loud. He stroked himself as he felt Sherlock fill him up over and over again.

Sherlock was losing it. Seeing John bent forward in front of him needing him, drove him insane. "You want my cock. You like it inside you. Yeah, you want me to fuck you hard until you come. You fucking love it, yeah? Yeah?" Sherlock was making himself approach orgasm as he voiced what he knew John was thinking. John's moans were growing louder as Sherlock pounded fiercely into him. "Please, grab my cock. I need you to." Begged John.

Sherlock growled and began stroking John's cock ferociously as his grunts became louder. John moans were closer apart. They were moving together now. "Give it to me hard. Fuck me hard. Please, cum for me." At that, Sherlock burst and came inside John as John moaned in response. He stroked himself even faster at the sound of Sherlock cumming and then came harder then he ever had in his life.

Sherlock pulled out of John and collapsed on the bed, unable to contain himself from emitting low moans repetitively under his breath.

They both rested for a while and could not believe what had just happened. Sherlock had found it deeply arousing to have control over someone and have such an effect on them. John was simply infatuated with the sheer power that revolved around Sherlock. He looked over at him with a content smile.

Sherlock glanced over at John and noticed his smile. A devilish grin spread across his face. He had John in his grasp now. He was his. "Get me my clothes." He ordered. John was slightly taken aback but did as he was told. He was completely smitten by Sherlock and the man knew it. Sherlock knew John would do anything to experience that again. "Tonight I'd like to eat pasta. I'll be in the living room. Call me when you're done" At that, Sherlock slipped on his robe and sauntered off to his favourite chair. He had what he wanted.


End file.
